Children of Tomorrow (15 page)

He hung up. And stood there for a moment all the fatigue, apparently - briefly - gone from him. Excitement transfigured his face. Hope was in his eyes. An
intense
yearning . . . He half turned away from the woman toward the door; and his impulse to leave and go where the action was, was plainly written in the way he stood. Like a leashed dog - or perhaps, rather, a caged animal — his head was up, his ears, so to say, cocked, and his nose sniffed the air. Like an animal, he had unmistakably sensed nearby prey, and every muscle was tensed to charge forth and do battle. But of course it would have been foolish to rush out into the night. And that thought was the equivalent for a human being of a leash or cage for an animal.

As the man stood there, thus poised and intent, his wife’s expression transformed into concern. Presently, she moved toward him, and put her arms tentatively around him. ‘Is it something you can tell me?’ she whispered.

Her husband shook his head. However, her near presence seemed, to recall him to his immediate situation. His arms and hands, which had been vaguely maneuvering at his side, reached out and grasped her. Held her. There was no resistance in her body now. So when presently he said. ‘We’d better go to bed. It’s not my duty shift; so I ought to let go and get some rest!’ his words were evidently sufficient motivation. For he removed one arm from around her, and, keeping the other one in an embracing hold around Estelle, he thereupon led her out of the room and down the corridor into their bedroom. Arrived there, he took approximately one minute and twenty-seven seconds to undress and tumble into bed,

One instant. . . the Invisible Observer was 'floating’ 200 feet above the big truck. The view included a good portion of Spaceport at night. In every direction, long lines of lighted streets marched off into a remote, merging brightness. There were no really high buildings in the space city, so the appearance was of a peaceful metropolis where nothing untoward was, or could, happen.

The next second . . . the entire scene blurred. Then the whole city, with its square miles and miles of lights, began to turn like something being viewed from a cartwheel that was not only spinning slowly, but falling.

In the armored vehicle below, the first indication had been a needle surge in the panel in front of the first assistant. He grabbed at the controls of those particular dials, and then he turned to the chief physicist, and said in an unsteady voice, ‘Sir, I think we’ve just tangled with an energy field of considerable power,’’

‘Grab it!’

The young man gulped, and said, ‘I’ve got the magnets of Unit A holding it. Better start another motor, and take over on your master control.’

The older man’s singularly keen eyes were wide and bright and excited. Up with a jerk came his hand. With a strong, levering motion, he drew a relay switch into closure position. The big truck body shuddered, as the second motor took hold.

‘Look!’ said the assistant, who had previously spoken. He spoke in a hushed voice.
‘The
screen?

The satinlike bluish surface was a mass of coruscating patterns. The chief physicist leaned forward, and his eyes were speculative, alive with information responses. Presently, his whole face was participating in a remarkable byplay of comprehension. His gaze flashed from one meter reading to another, back to the screen, and then again to one of the dials.

Periodically, his voice came soft and confident, and it also telegraphed that a knowing brain was watching the action. ‘More on A - quick! Give B a half dial more , . , Gentlemen, do you realise that the readings we’re getting show that whoever is battling us, can just about match the power available on this truck? Leon, phone Cammander Elliotson. Get that aerial lab. And, Phillip, get me Commander Lane... ’ Pause, then: ‘Look at that. If that’s operating from 4,000 million miles, they’re using a system that’s faster dian light
by many times.
Those are instantaneous responses.,. still, why haven’t they reinforced it? It’s still the same total energy output. Big, but not enough to everwhelm our magnets - ’

He was interrupted. "Doctor Yanlo.’ It was Philip. ‘I’ve dialed Lane. And the phone is ringing, so why don’t you -
^!

The young man did not have to complete his sentence. Because the chief physicist grabbed at the phone, and it was he who answered Lane’s ‘Hello,’ and conducted the subsequent conversation. When it was ended, and he had replaced the receiver, he went on as if there had been no break in the sequence of his thought: ‘There’s a mystery here, of remote control... This is the greatest day of my life. And yours. Notice everything. This is learning on the dynamic level of instant to instant change of data.’

One of the young men - Leon, the first assistant - had a haunted look on his face. He was cringing. ‘Right now, doctor, I’m thinking of my wife and two children. This feels more like a to-the-death engagement in a war. And we’re in the stage where we don’t know what the outcome will be . . . Your analysis of faster-than-light energies is not reassuring.
⁵

The other man interrupted at that point. ‘Aerial lab has lifted from dock. They say, one minute.’

‘Good, good,’ said his c
h
ief tensely.
I’
ve got to break all contact with this planet. Goodbye
-

In the lab ship, L-20 Unit number B32, one of the scientists said, ‘Got a sudden surge there from the vicinity of the Jaeger
house. But it’s gone now.’

‘Keep cruising!’ came the command from the bridge. That family will be investigated tomorrow ... is my information/

The great ship continued its protective cruise over the space city all that night, while the stars looked down from a blue- dark moonless sky.

It was dark when Lane awakened sufficiently to remember where he had signed off the night before. The sobering recollection brought him awake in moments, and he was relieved to notice that he had already benefited from what sleep he had had i. He felt distinctly better.

T
h
ere was a sound of regular breathing from Estelle’s side of the king-size bed. So he edged over. Got silently out from under the sheets. Put on his robe. Tiptoed out of the room and down the hall to the den. From there he phoned and presently had the account of the battle in the night between two fields of energy.

Having secured the available data, he had his call switched to Elliotson. The two commanders thereupon grimly discussed the implications of what had happened. And there was quick agreement between them that it would do no harm to have more L-20’s in the air over the dry. But they also agreed that the big
Watcher
vessels should not be easily visible during the daytime.

As Lane put it, ‘This is a scaredy-cat planet. And, since the chances of a nuclear strike from way out there, are practically zero - the aiming mechanism would be spotted by our defense equipment - we’d better just wait it out.’ He concluded, ‘My own belief is that the aliens fought us out there to prevent us from discovering where
their
planet was. Then they followed us determined to find out where
our
planet is. And they found out. That puts them one up. Accordingly, we must achieve communication - or fight. Those are our alternatives. I’m going to suggest that we try to capture - not destroy - one of their small craft, and have a conversation with those aboard. I’m convinced that’s our only chance to avoid a fleet battle to the death with the whole earth and solar system at their mercy if we lose.
’
-

Elliotson, at the other end of the line, a narrow-eyed, red- faced man, said laconically, ‘I have a feeling that the Commission wishes they would just go away. Failing that, I am in full agreement with your limited objective.
¹¹

Lane replaced the receiver, and returned to bed. This time he slept until the soft
brrrring
of the alarm awakened him.

At breakfast, Estelle watched him eat his breakfast, nursed her own cup of coffee like the treasure it was to her, and kept glancing at the time. She finally disappeared — came back, disturbed. ‘Susan is not well,’ she said nervously. ‘She’s going to stay in bed today.’

Lane kept his peace. He stared in a studied fashion past her, nodded his head judiciously, murmuring finally a non-committal
‘
Mmmmm
.’

Estelle poured herself another cup of the dark, liquid delight,

and said uneasily, ‘It’s her first illness since childhood,’

‘If you call a doctor,’ Lane ventured, ‘have him give her a general physical. We might as well know the truth.’

The woman was instantly outraged. ‘What kind of remark is that?’ she bridled.

Lane avoided even harder looking at her, as he said, 'I thought you were concerned. But,’ he shrugged, ‘use your own judgement, Personally, however, I’ve always found it simpler to work from facts. So if my requests have any influence on you at all, well, I’d still like to know,’

His wife took five sips, and now it was she who was not look-> ing at him as she said, ‘I really don’t see any reason for calling a doctor.’

A small, sad smile came into her husband’s face. He leaned back in his chair, and he shook his head at the woman. ‘I wish you could see yourself and me at this moment,’ he said, ‘as I visualise us. Here I am, one of the three top fleet commanders, judged capable of dealing with a hundred thousand or more personnel. And yet I sense so much emotion in you that I cannot discuss my sixteen-year-old daughter with you in a rational fashion. I feel that if I make a frank remark you’ll hold it against me.’

The woman was pale. ‘You attacked her the first night.’ She spoke in a low voice. ‘You brought Captain Sennes into the house, and I sense that was a deliberate act designed to confuse the girl. And now, this morning, she’s sick for the first time in ten years.’

As she spoke those final words, the color drained from the man’s face. ‘Good. God, you’re blaming
me
for her illness.’

She was silent, frozen there across the table from him. But her drawn cheeks and her tense body said that she did blame him
’
The man showed shock. He climbed to his feet unsteadily. The chair he had been sitting in fell over backwards. The crash was unnoticed by either of them. ‘I’m sorry, John,’ the woman whispered. ‘Those are my thoughts. I can’t help it.’ Abruptly, tears rolled down her cheeks.

Lane made an effort at that point to control his own emotion. “What you’re saying,’ he said slowly, ‘is that Susan has a mental emotional reason for being ill today. If that’s true, I think she should be questioned. I noticed that she’s a pretty straightforward girl within the narrow outfit frame. So I believe that she would level with you if you were to ask her after I depart - which I think I’d better do before any more ill-considered remarks are made. So let me just answer your accusations. Yes, I brought Captain Sennes into the house. I thought it was time she had contact with a real man, instead of with those cowardly second- generation kids who are going to run outside, as soon as they’re old enough.’

They’re leaving because of people like you,’ said the woman, with more spirit suddenly. She wiped her eyes with a quick, angry gesture of the back of her hand. ‘Because it’s unnatural. Susan saw me here for - how many nights was it you said? - about 3,600, It would be utterly unintelligent of her not to notice what a nightmare that was. So she’s going to have a normal existence - which I want her to have. There’s nothing sacred about space, that one man has to be out there ten years. I’m disgraced as a woman. My husband chose the longest hike in the history of the service, in preference to coming home to his family. So even if Sennes were a marrying man - which I’m sure he isn’t - I wouldn’t want him to be interested in Susan, or she in him,’’

Her husband made a gesture of defensive cut-off, putting both hands in front of him and wagging them slightly, in protest. ‘I had better get out,’ he said, “before
I
decide that this marriage isn’t going to make it - which, please note. I haven’t done yet. He paused in the doorway to make his denial.
‘That
is a thought entirely in your mind.’-

He did not wait for her to reply, but turned and did in fact hastily depart. His footsteps were audible in the corridor leading to the front of the house, then there were sounds from the outer vestibule. Seconds later, the front door opened - and shut.
A
pause, followed by the throb of a truck’s motor starting up in the rumbling pulsar fashion. The noise moved slowly away.

The woman in the kitchen frowned, as she heard the noise. Then she hurried to the den, and its window which faced the street. Peered out in time to see the huge steel vehicle roll out of sight along the street. She was still gazing after it, or trying to, when the phone rang. Automatically, the blonde woman walked to it, lifted the receiver, and said,
116110
.’

‘Estelle, this is Ann,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘I’ve been watching that armored tank from my little window across the street from you, and I want to know: Is there any reason that we haven’t been told why Commander John Lane has to be escorted to and from home in a tank.’

'They’re testing new equipment,
¹
lied Estelle in her blandest voice. ‘John has to evaluate it, and he just hasn’t the time any other way.’

‘Oh, I’m so glad to hear that,’ said Ann’s voice. ‘I suddenly got all worried about those horrible creatures who attacked the fleet in space. It would be just awful if they were to find us so quick. Everybody says it’ll be sooner or later, but I’d rather it were later.’

‘Me, too,’ answered Estelle, brightly.

‘Thank you, dear. Good-bye.’

‘ ’Bye.’ The blonde woman replaced the receiver. Then she stood there, her head cocked slightly to one side, with a self- satisfied look on her face. She glided over to a mirror and gazed at her image in it. ‘Still have a quick mind, don’t you?’ she praised the image, aloud. She drew back. Her brows knit. ‘I wonder what that truck
is
for,’ she murmured.

With that, she walked over to a chair, and sat down. She sat there with her Ups pouting slightly, staring into space at a small downward slant that, if she had really been looking, would have meant that she was studying the door of a lower cupboard in the northeast corner of the kitchen.

She spoke again. “Who did I fool? Me or Ann?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Is it possible there
are
aliens out there?’

It was, of course, impossible to carry the thought any further, without additional information. So, presently, she stood up and began to clear away the breakfast dishes.

The light of dawn had come that morning to a Spaceport under the surveillance of a round dozen L-20 series ‘floating” research labs. As the dawn
brightened, the protective craft went higher and higher until, shortly after the sun rose, they were tiny black points in the sky overhead. Those aboard peered down from their vast height - over twenty miles - at a city that looked like an enormous residential suburb, with here and there a school and its grounds, and of course, shopping centers rather evenly spaced ... perhaps ‘too evenly to look natural,’ The comment was made by an officer in one of the L-20 vessels, as he gazed down at the city as it showed in a large viewplate which actually looked like a window.

His superior, a tall, thin, very straight-standing officer in his fifties, nodded, but said simply, ‘People will work underground. So all our factories and maintenance facilities are down half a mile or more . . . But they insist on living where the sun can be seen. Accordingly, that’s where the houses are. Presumably, if anything ever goes wrong, we’ll have enough advance warning

for a few of the wives and children to make it to the shelters below. It’s a little difficult to believe that all of them will make it.® A voice intruded. ‘Commander Lane, or some man, has just emerged from the Lane house. Shall I insert a close-up?’

'Yea/ The chief officer spoke quickly. ‘And connect us with Dr Yanlo.’

They watched as in one comer of the viewplate a tiny figure, not more than an inch or so tall (but nevertheless perfectly proportioned and plainly visible) walked from the house to a toy-sized armored truck, and disappeared through a small opening in the vehicle’s side. Dr Yanlo’s voice came: ‘Commander John Lane has this minute boarded our
67-A.
We shall now transport him to Space Control.’

The officers aboard the L-20 watched in silence as the machine below moved through the toylike streets of Spaceport, and in due course arrived at the large domelike structure that was the visible portion of the Space Control building. Dr Yanlo’s voice came: 'Commander Lane has entered the elevator which will take him below... Our task is accordingly discharged.’

A minute later, as Lane stepped off the lift at his level, two security officers were waiting for him. The two saluted. The commander nodded. Then he walked with deliberate steps into the Identification booth. As usual the light above the booth was green when he came out.

But he stood by patiently as one of the two security officers stepped to the phone beside the booth and button-pressed a number. He was a heavy-faced individual younger than Lane. A faint, taut smile cringled his thick cheeks as he said to the person at the other end of the line, ‘Checking that B-10.’ There must have been prompt answers, for he replaced the receiver, turned, and spoke two words. “Negative, sir.’

Lane stared straight at him for a long moment. ‘Let me understand you,’ he said, articulating each sylable. ‘According to the computer,
today my
skin does
not
emit the K energy?’

‘
That is correct, Commander,’ said the younger man respectfully.

‘Very good,’ acknowledged Lane.
‘
And thank you both.’ He turned, and started stiffly down the hall. His face was oddly rigid, his eyes narrowed. When he reached his office, he immediately called his liaison on the intercom. ‘Mr Scot,’ he asked,
‘
when will Mr Jaeger be brought here?’ He broke off. ‘You did get my message?’

“Yes, I got it, sir,’ came the efficient voice. ‘As for Mr Len Jaeger - that seems to be a long story, about which I have placed a memorandum on your desk. Briefly, he’s in the hospital, suffering from concussion. I’ll keep checking.’

Lane acknowledged politely, and broke the connection. But he did not immediately go to his chair. Instead, he turned and gazed up at the great viewplate. The scene on it was, again, of the starry heavens. There was less appearance of movement than had been the case on his first morning. Today, it was of a specific group of stars, looking rather steadily toward the Southern Cross.